


Home, Family

by everydaysoul



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-28 07:20:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7630486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everydaysoul/pseuds/everydaysoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Charles,” Erik says, sounding more resigned than horrified now, “Not another one.”</p><p>“I’m calling him Hank,” Charles says, completely oblivious to the look of consternation on Erik’s face. “Isn’t he adorable? Look at his blue fur, it’s so <i>groovy</i>.”</p><p> </p><p>In which Charles is constantly bringing strays home, which drives Erik nuts because <i>Charles, owning a mansion is not a valid excuse as to why you need a hundred pets.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Home, Family

“ _Charles_ ,” Erik says, sounding more resigned than horrified this time, “Not _another_ one.”

“I’m going to call him Hank,” Charles says, completely oblivious to the look of consternation on Erik’s face. “Isn’t he adorable? Look at his blue fur, it’s so _groovy_.”

Erik frowns and absolutely does not tell Charles that opinions are highly subjective; Hank is blue and only vaguely resembles a dog because it’s fucking _blue_ , with thick matted fur and large paws.

Personally, Erik thinks Hank looks like someone bred a pair of golden retrievers on steroids, then carelessly dropped their progeny into a vat of cheap hair dye. But they’re also fresh on the heels of another argument, so he valiantly resists the attempt to say something mean and instead says calmly, “Charles, where did you find him?”

“Somewhere,” Charles says, which is the exact same answer he gives every time, and is immediately distracted when Hank yawns and curls up to his chest. It makes him coo in delight, which is – okay, sort of adorable somehow, because Charles fawning over things is always adorable.

Not that Erik will ever admit it.

Instead he cautiously reaches out to (gently) poke Hank by the tip of one ear, then says, “Are you sure he’s not dangerous?”

“Nonsense,” Charles says dismissively. “Hank is perfectly tame, look at him. He snuggles.”

“Hank needs a bath,” Erik counters. “And probably a good deal of the good conditioner that we bought when you brought Scott home.”

Charles beams, completely misinterpreting Erik’s tone of voice. “Excellent! Thank you so much Erik, I knew I could count on you to help.”

Baffled, Erik manages to not drop Hank as Charles efficiently unloads the mass of sleepy blue dog into his arms. Hank looks up at Erik and growls quietly, clearly _correctly_ interpreting Erik’s frozen look of dismay.

“Be a good boy, Hank,” Charles says severely, already walking away, presumably to either locate more blue dogs in urgent need of homes or to prepare a bed for his newest acquisition – Erik hopes it’s the latter. “Erik, be _gentle_ with him _._ ”

“I was not offering to–” Erik starts, struggling not to drop Hank because he’s strangely heavy, but then Charles turns around to give him a wide shit-eating grin and Erik belatedly realizes Charles hadn’t misunderstood him at all.

The bastard.

 

 

 

If there’s anything Erik’s learnt from the years of being friends with Charles (and subsequently moving in with him, because Charles lived all alone in a huge house and Erik was nearly homeless, drifting from job to job and Charles had offered him one of the many spare bedrooms), it’s to pick his battles when it comes to Charles.

Because when a pair of friends share conflicting views on everything from politics and the economy to whether pineapple should be allowed on pizza – it’s always best to compromise. At which Erik of course fails very badly, which leads to countless arguments and slammed doors and broken things, and Erik storming off in anger only to quietly return a few days later.

He’s kind of surprised that Charles hasn’t kicked him out on his ass yet.

On hindsight, he shouldn’t really be surprised, after all. Charles’ house is ridiculously big, and Charles himself is a giant softie at heart despite how he usually comes across as an eccentric dude with floppy hair and way too much money and the tendency to spout genetic theories to whoever who would care enough to listen.

At first it was just the two of them. Erik had been completely bewildered when Charles had asked him to move in, stubbornly refusing Erik’s attempts to pay rent or contribute to the bills, so Erik had taken up little odd jobs around the house to return the favor. The Xavier mansion is old, and came with an assortment of typical old house problems – leaky plumbing, old wiring, creaky stairs – all aggravated by Charles confining himself to one wing of the house and generally letting the rest of the place fall into disrepair.

“I didn’t think it was worth maintaining the upkeep of the entire grounds after Raven left,” Charles had told him sheepishly, which Erik translates into Charles-speak as he still really misses his adopted sister years after she left to travel the world.

He’s only met Raven twice. Erik likes her; she’s pretty and clever, and gets restless whenever she’s in one place for too long.

So Erik had quit his job and got to work on the house. He’d ripped out all the old ceramic wiring and replaced them with new insulated cables, fixed the corroded pipes and together they’d spent months repainting and polishing the natural wood walls and floors.

Altogether they must have had spent nearly two years fixing up the house. Erik still thinks those two years were pretty much the most fun he’s ever had his whole life; waking up at dawn for an early breakfast, arguing over paint shades and the best way to reface the kitchen cabinets over coffee, then continuing their bickering as they actually got to work.

Erik had ended up doing most of the heavy lifting – Charles having grown up sheltered, in old money, meant he sucked at most menial jobs – after a few memorable disasters, Erik relegated Charles to running errands or simply keeping him company for some of the trickier projects. Not that Erik minded; he liked listening to Charles talk as he worked.

Even if most of Charles’ favorite topics revolved around genetics, _honestly_.

(They initially tried discussing more serious topics, but discovered quickly that often led to more arguments they didn’t need while attempting to refurbish an entire mansion.)

And when they finally finished, Erik had suggested converting part of the house into a luxury bed and breakfast, to which Charles hummed vaguely and shook his head, looking contemplative.

Then one week later, Charles came home clutching a sleek black cat with beautiful silver stripes that looked alarmingly like a bobcat, and declared her name was going to be Storm.

“But that’s a _bobcat_ ,” Erik said, slightly bewildered because where the fuck did Charles find something like _that_ , but Charles just shrugged it off.

One month after that, it was Alex, an extremely hyperactive, yappy dog that looked more like a fox, then Angel, then Scott who turned out to be even more annoying than Alex at his worst.

“Where are you finding all these _things_?” Erik demanded after Charles brought Sean home, because even though the Xavier estate is huge, there’s no way there are _this_ many stray animals wandering about the perfectly manicured grounds.

Charles looked upset at that. “They need a home, Erik, and I have plenty of space to share. I would have thought you would be more _understanding_.”

“I don’t mind them, but,” Erik had said, gesturing about hopelessly as he tried to articulate his next point, then thought better of it and sighed, giving in.

“Good,” Charles said brightly, “Thank you, Erik. How do you feel about birds?”

 

 

 

A year passes. Erik gets a new job at a metalworking plant. It’s hard work, but it’s _honest_ work so Charles can’t really say anything about it. Charles himself alternates between publishing in science journals and taking care of his menagerie of strays. They argue every other day about coffee, about pizza toppings and how Erik shouldn’t be feeding _their_ pets substandard pet food.

“Oh seriously, Charles, fuck you,” Erik exclaims finally, and storms out.  

Erik calls up one of his buddies from work and spends the next week sleeping on the guy’s couch in exchange for helping him repaint his roof tiles. Charles does not text or call, and Erik returns the favor, pretending that Charles doesn’t exist as he sits on Janos’ roof sipping cold beers as he waits for the bright red paint to dry.

“Did you break up with your boyfriend?” Janos asks as he brings up a new tin of paint.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Erik says absently.

Janos looks confused. “Isn’t Charles your boyfriend?”

Erik blinks. “What.”

He’s still perplexed as he’s climbing back down. Janos goes to put away the brushes, and Erik thinks that maybe a walk might help clear his head a little. He’s so distracted that he almost doesn’t notice where he’s going until he steps on something furry with sharp teeth and even sharper claws.

Charles is standing in the foyer when he returns. It’s almost like he knows precisely when Erik’s coming back, and decided to wait for him.

It’s kind of creepy. And touching, in a very Charles-eque sort of way.

“This is Wolverine,” Erik says stiffly. He lowers the wolf-puppy thing down to the floor, and it instantly runs right up to Charles and scratches him about the ankles.

Erik grimaces.

Charles does a weird jump-dance thing to avoid Wolverine’s teeth, ducks down and swiftly picks him up, then holds him up with outstretched arms. Erik waits for the other shoe to drop, but then Charles just shakes his head like he’s terribly disappointed in Erik’s choices in life.

“What a terrible name,” Charles says. “I would have called him Logan. Anyway, welcome home, Erik, we've all missed you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Also: In which Erik is clueless and Charles’ attempts at subtly building them a family of furbabies go completely unnoticed.


End file.
